


Underneath The Mistletoe

by jfcmartin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 10:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5537333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jfcmartin/pseuds/jfcmartin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg is hosting a Christmas Party and wants Sherlock to wear a mistletoe hat for Science.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underneath The Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh hello yes tis I the TrashLord™ who is going to bring you last minute Johnlock Christmas Fluff! This is my Secret Santa gift for [johwatsons](http://johwatsons.tumblr.com/)! I hope you like it sweetie uwu
> 
> None of the characters belong to me and this hasn't been beta-d or brit-picked. If you are a willing volunteer then message me u feel

Gavin was going host a party in his flat on Christmas day. He was very popular with the people at Uni, so it was certain that it will be a packed evening. Crappy invitations were made and sent to exactly sixty-four people to save the date, and invitation number three was especially made for none other than Sherlock Holmes. Of course, the first one was for his boyfriend, Mycroft; and the second one was for his best friend, Sally.

He was sure that the second Sherlock read the first two words in the invitation, he would immediately tear it apart and throw it in the bin; bonus points if he threw it somewhere in his dumpster of a flat and never see it again. He was right.

“Why aren’t you going? It's gonna be fun!” Grant said, in attempt to coax Sherlock to come.

“And why would I?” he asked. “Sixty drunk hormonal teenagers jumping around to ridiculous music talking about that family. Car dash or something.”

“Kardashian,” Geoff supplied.

“Whatever. It's a complete waste of time. I have things I’m more than willing to accomplish besides interacting with people with brains as big as a pea.” This comment made Graham snort. “You go have fun while I enjoy time with myself here,” he concluded, swinging his feet on the couch and grabbed a book on the table. He turned to where his bookmark was and started to read, pretending as if Glenn wasn’t even in the room.

“Come on, Sherlock. What could I possibly do to convince you to come?” He asked.

Sherlock scrunched his nose and looked up from his book. He looked around, trying to come up with an answer and finally said, “Nothing.”

Gus rolled his eyes. He plopped himself onto the chair adjacent from where Sherlock was sitting and said, “What if I told you that I’ve invited John to come over?”

Sherlock sighed and flipped the page over. “Without guarantee that he will be going?”

Gabe took his phone out and skimmed through his Facebook page. He created an event and invited the same people he sent invitations to. Sherlock kept reminding him that it was foolish of him to bother making the physical paper invitations, but kept forgetting that he was drunk at that time. He was just as surprised as Sherlock that he did seventy invitations in four hours with proper grammar.

“Check this out,” he said, facing his screen towards Sherlock. He peered over his glasses and saw the list of people who RSVP'd, and saw a particular name and picture that sparked his interest. He slowly placed his bookmark in between the pages of his book and closed it, settling it on his lap.

He crossed his arms across his chest and huffed. “Well, maybe he just did it because he felt too bad that not many people will come,” Sherlock noted, pointing at the tracker that said: twenty-seven going and four interested.

“Nah, I know that John bloke. Always goes to parties even if he hates them. He says he does it for the ladies, but people say he’s gay.”

Sherlock snorted. “He’s bi; there’s a difference.”

“Says who?” Gareth asked, lowering his phone to his lap and raising his eyebrow.

“Says me. Well, from what I’ve observed.” Sherlock replied.

Glen waved him off. “Yeah, sure. You’re just saying that because you fancy him.”

Sherlock’s face turned crimson, but he got him back and said, “Well you’re just begging me to come to your party because my brother did a favor to you last night.”

Gavin’s eyes grew wide and whispered, “How the hell did you know?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and whispered back, “Because the walls aren’t exactly as thick as you think they are.” He stood up and headed for the kitchen. He opened the fridge and got a bottle of water, twisted the cap open, and downed half the contents in a second.

Geoff followed him to grab one for himself and said, “So are you going or not?”

Sherlock bit the rim of the bottle absentmindedly. He thought about what good would it do for him to go to the party. His opinion was still the same about it, the only thing that made it weigh lighter was the fact that John was there. Still, the possibility of them interacting was very slim, and Sherlock might not even be John’s type. The cons continued to outnumber the pros. If he did go, he would only be relying on wishful thinking.

“Sure,” Sherlock said before he could even process what he just said. Gary patted his back rather forcefully and made him cough, excited that he finally decided to come.

“I mean, I’m not a genius like you, but I can feel something’s wrong.” Gus observed, now rubbing his hand on Sherlock’s back. “Are you positive that you’re going?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Earlier, you wanted me to. And now, you’re doubting me? What do you even want?”

Grant laughed. “You’re fibbing to the other dimension. What’s bugging you?”

Sherlock hated being too obvious. No matter how hard he tried, he would always give away what he truly felt. And everyone who knew him very well would see it. Fortunately, he could only think of a handful of people that shared this gift. “It’s nothing. I guess I’m just a bit hesitant. What if we don’t actually get to talk? Then what’s the point of even going?”

His reason made Gavin laugh even more.  “Sherlock Holmes is hesitant of himself. That’s a first!” Sherlock released an exasperated sigh and walked back to the couch and plopped face first onto the cushions. “Wait no, I’m sorry, Sherlock! I promise I won’t laugh anymore.”

“The first thing you say is what you actually feel,” he said, muffled by the cushions.

“Well it’s not my fault that I’m used to you being an arrogant prick. I can only name a few times when you were like this on the,” he paused and slowly said, “top of my head. Top of my head! Top of my head, Sherlock!”

Sherlock lifted his head and furrowed his eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

“Holy shit, I’m a genius! I have to sit down,” he announced cheerfully as he sat on Sherlock’s back. He tried to wriggle away, but Geoff was stronger than him. Practically everyone was, so Sherlock decided to give in and let him squish him to death.

“What do you have in mind?” Sherlock wheezed.

“Well, are you willing to do anything I tell you to?” he tested. Sherlock was very suspicious about whatever the hell he thought of. Graham always comes up with the most stupid ideas, even worse than Philip.

“Probably not” was Sherlock’s reply.

“But I swear it will work! You don’t like people going near you _but_ you want John to, right?”

Sherlock was becoming very skeptical about this. “I suppose?”

Geoff finally stood up and sat on the chair he was sitting on earlier. “Well, I have just the right thing for you, and it’s 100% fool proof.”

The teen sat up and crossed his arms. Gavin always claimed that his ideas were 100% fool proof, and they usually didn’t end well. But he was becoming desperate. “I’m gonna regret this, am I?” he asked.

And his only response was a wink.

___________________________________

“There’s no way I’m doing this, Gavin!” Sherlock protested.

Sherlock actually took effort to dress nice and attend his friend’s party. He wore a red and green jumper, being the only festive clothing he had in his closet, white trousers, and grey trainers. He believed that it was decent enough for a Christmas party, but Grant had other ideas.

“I’m serious, Sherlock! All you have to do is wear the hat and walk around. I’m sure people will avoid you,” he snorted. He got one of their school hats and taped down a pole holding a mistletoe. It was a crude piece of work which was probably put together for five minutes.

“Where does the part where John comes to me then?” Sherlock hissed. There were about forty people already at the venue dancing to a very repetitive song, including John and his friends, Sholto and Mike, sitting by the couch.

“Trust me, it will happen,” he said, dropping the hat onto Sherlock’s head. He grumbled and crossed his arms. Gareth tried to adjust it around his head, as if it would make it look any better.

Sherlock swatted his hands away from his head and said, “I don’t even know why I’m diving into this.”

“Because you’re a love sick puppy, that’s why,” Glen joked, tapping the mistletoe with his finger. “This doesn’t count though. Good luck!” He backed away and disappeared into the crowd.

Sherlock grumbled and went to grab a can of pop. People around him gave him weird looks and tried to distance themselves from him, which meant Gary’s plan was working. One of the rugby players hooted at his direction. Sherlock scowled at him and he just offered Sherlock a wink.

The kitchen was packed; the island in the center was topped with eight bowls of assorted crisps, with cases of beer on the floor. The girls scurried away as soon as they saw him. Good.

Sherlock went to the fridge and grabbed a can of ginger ale. He opened it and took a little sip, walking towards the bowl of popcorn and grabbed a handful.

“Sherlock?” a feminine voice said. He turned around and saw Molly staring at him with disbelief. “What the hell are you wearing?” She approached him cautiously and stayed five feet away from him.

“Gavin’s idea,” he answered simply.

“Gavin? Who’s Gavin?” she asked, taking a few Cheetos from the bowl beside her. She wore a red sunday dress that reached above her knees and red flats. It‘s the one she always wore when they have ballet practice together, and Sherlock had the same ones. Instead of a humiliating mistletoe hat, she had antlers.

“The host of this party?”

Molly giggled. “You meant Greg.”

“Yeah, him,” Sherlock nodded, barely paying attention to her. He saw John stood up and went somewhere in his peripheral vision, probably to the loo, since he was a bit bouncy when he walked.

“Oh yeah, I have a gift for you!” Molly squealed. She took her sling bag and pulled out a box wrapped in red paper. She reached it out for him, making sure that she didn’t go under his mistletoe. He accepted it gingerly and ripped its wrapper. It revealed a 1000 piece puzzle of London, which was basically the London Eye, Big Ben, and the Tower Bridge condensed into a single image.

Sherlock grinned and said, “Thank you, Molly. Happy Christmas.” He was about to make some excuse that he wasn’t able to get her anything, but she was way ahead of him.

“I know you didn’t get me anything. The real Christmas miracle is if you actually got me something,” she retorted. Sherlock produced a fake laugh, relieved that he didn’t have to be sappy about it.

“Well I have to go, I have a bunch of other gifts to give,” she smiled and waved, leaving Sherlock with a bunch of people taking pictures together, making out, or generally being idiots. He left his ginger ale on the table and left, wondering where to go next. People gave him plenty of room to walk because they didn’t want to be a victim of his hat.

“Hey, you with the hat!” a loud voice said. Sherlock searched for the source and narrowed his eyes. It was the same one who winked at him earlier. He beckoned Sherlock towards him, with his friends laughing beside him. He crossed his arms and walked away, but he called him again.

“Hey! Do you want a kiss? I’m gonna give it to you!” He guffawed, high fiving his friends. Sherlock always hated that group, especially Jim. He was too full of himself and think Sherlock fancied him because he caught him staring at him _once._ In his defense, one couldn’t help but watch someone trying to make a complete fool of himself.

Sherlock clutched onto the gift Molly gave him and stood his ground. Jim and his friends were watching him intently, and when he didn’t budge he said, “You want me to go there?” He stood up and marched towards him, leaving a few feet distance from him. Jim spread his arms, daring Sherlock to go near.

“Come on! That mistletoe won’t do the kissing for me,” he made kissing noises and the boys behind him laughed. Sherlock was ready to punch him in the face and get on with it but he can’t. He knew he would be outnumbered and he wouldn’t want to ruin Gabe’s Christmas party. But somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

Other people started watching them as well, since Jim started moaning and amplified his kissing sounds. It was a disgusting sight, and very humiliating. Jim started screaming at him as well, telling him he was a coward, and other derogatory and sexist insults. The laughter of his peers were muddled in his thoughts, and all the eyes of the guests trying to show sympathy or disgust meant nothing to him. Jim’s words stung worse than it should have. He dropped his head low as his grip tightened on the box.

Suddenly, Sherlock felt an arm wrapped around his shoulder, it was John. “Hey, leave him alone, yeah? If you’re that desperate for some action tonight, try fucking yourself with a cactus,” he said, and everyone _oooh-ed_ at them. Sherlock was ready to disintegrate in the spot, but he was enjoying the look on Jim’s face as everyone started laughing _at_ him.

Before Jim could react, John pulled both of them away from the forming crowd, and headed for the kitchen. He opened the fridge and got a bottle of water. He uncapped it and handed it to Sherlock. “Drink,” he ordered.

Sherlock dropped his gift on the island and took the bottle shakily. He took a little sip and handed it back to John. He rolled his eyes and drunk a little water from it before covering it.

“Erm, thanks for the thing you did back there,” Sherlock said awkwardly. He may have gotten the chance to have a chat with him, but this wasn’t the best way he envisioned it to happen. He didn’t want to give John the impression that he would be the damsel in distress all the time. But it was too late to change that now.

John nodded and said, “No problem.” He noticed the box he was holding earlier and asked, “What’s that?”

“A puzzle set. A friend gave it to me,” he replied. John reached for it and looked at the illustrations and chuckled.

“I used to love making these things. Well, I’m an amateur; I won’t attempt puzzles past a hundred pieces.”

Sherlock nodded, looking up and met John’s eyes. His legs were turning to jelly and his face was starting to heat up. John broke eye contact to look at the bundle hanging above them, Sherlock completely forgot about it. It was swaying from its string, probably because Sherlock was shaking too much.

“Your hat is adorable, by the way,” John mused. “Something different besides those antlers and Santa hats.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock whispered.

“You do realize I’m going to have to kiss you now, right?” John smirked.

“What?” he stammered. John stepped closer and snaked his arms around Sherlock’s hips. He could feel Sherlock’s heavy breathing and smiled.

“It’s a Christmas tradition, is it not? Besides, I’m trapped in here already,” he leaned in closer and searched for any repulsion or doubt in Sherlock’s eyes. But he found none, if anything, he was waiting. He wrapped his arms around John and closed the distance between them.

Sherlock whimpered at the feeling of John’s lips on his. It was the weirdest sensation he ever experienced. He thanked every single god that existed that no one else was in the kitchen. He ran his hands through John’s blond locks and deepened the kiss. A few moments later, they pulled away, gasping for air.

Sherlock finally came to his senses and his eyes widened. Panic surged through him as John might’ve thought he came across as needy. He dropped his hands to his sides and fiddled with his jumper.

“I’m sorry I--”

Before Sherlock could apologize, John leaned in to peck his lips. Sherlock’s face was probably as red as John’s jumper. “Don’t be,” he reassured, leaning against the island and searching for something in his pockets. He pulled out his hand and showed a small green box with a silver ribbon wrapped around it. He handed it to Sherlock and said, “This one’s for you.”

“M-me?” he stuttered. He took the box on the palm of John’s hand and studied it, to check if there were any hidden motives behind it.

John placed his hands cooly onto his pockets and said, “I saw that in the store when I went Christmas shopping with my friends and thought you might like it. I was planning to give it to you at some point. I thought it would be great to do it here in Greg’s party, which is mostly the only reason why I came here.”

“Really?” Sherlock asked credulously.

“Yeah,” he sighed, as if releasing a heavy weight on his chest. “I mean, I even asked Greg if you would come too. He said you would so here I am!”

Sherlock couldn’t believe himself. John thought of him? It must’ve been a crude line people would say, but still. He looked at John as a permission to open it, and John waved his hand to say go ahead. He unraveled the ribbon and gently tore the flaps of the paper, scared that it might break.

It was a yellow box with a hexagonal pattern. Sherlock opened it and revealed a necklace with a rubber bee pendant. It was about the size of his thumb and its chain was silver.

“I remembered that time in Biology class; you loved that time Mrs. Turner talked about bees,” John explained. “You even had a notebook with bees all over it! And you dressed up as a bee on halloween so,” he gestured to the necklace, “I got an idea! Also to clarify, I wasn’t stalking you.”

The comment made Sherlock chuckle. He took the pendant and let it drop, catching it with the chain. “Thank you, John.”

John grinned. “You’re welcome. Do you want me to wear it on you?” he asked, and Sherlock nodded eagerly. He took the jewelry from his hands, unclasped the chain, and put it around Sherlock’s neck. He sneaked a small kiss on his lips before taking a step back, and Sherlock giggled.

“What was that for?” Sherlock asked playfully.

“Well it’s this stupid hat! We have to get rid of it, otherwise I’m going to kiss you all over again,” he joked, wiggling the mistletoe on its string. “Not that I’m complaining,” he winked.

“Stop,” Sherlock complained, hiding his beet red face with his hands.

John took his arms and lowered them, trying to meet his eyes. “You look cute when you blush,” he said, and planted his lips on his again.

“Seriously!” Sherlock laughed, swatting his arm playfully. He took the hat off his head and placed it on his previous gift. He crossed his arms and huffed. “You know, you can still kiss me even without the mistletoe, right?”

John laughed and said, “Oh really?” He leaned in and Sherlock closed his eyes, but he stopped a few inches away. “But I’m a gentleman, and I’m obliged to buy you a drink first.”

Sherlock shrugged and said, “Fair enough.”

“So,” he cleared his throat and went down on his knees. “Oh fair and brilliant Sherlock Holmes, would you go on a date with me?”

“Get up!”

“Not until I get a yes first,” John bargained.

“Yeah I’m going, alright?” he said, and John finally stood up.

He sighed deeply and said, “I’m going on a date with Sherlock Holmes. This is honestly the best Christmas present I’ve ever had.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and said, “Well, did people give you rubbish for Christmas?”

John thought for a moment and said, “Well, Mike gave me a pack of condoms, which might be really useful in the future.”

“We’re not even going out yet!”

He crossed his fingers, looked up, and said, “Wishful thinking!”

“Maybe in the future,” Sherlock mumbled. “But for now,” he took the hat and placed it on John’s head, “I’m going to follow Christmas tradition.” He smirked and peppered John’s face with kisses and ended with a lingering kiss on his lips. He pulled away and said, “Merry Christmas, John.”

His arms found their way around Sherlock’s hips again and he replied, “Merry Christmas, Sherlock.”

“And a Happy New Year!” They heard a loud voice, followed by the pop of confetti. Both turned around and saw Gavin wearing a blue paper crown, shades, and three buttons from his shirt weren’t in place. He held a tiny party popper and threw it on the ground.

“You’re drunk, Geoff,” Sherlock stated flatly, irritated that he ruined the moment.

“Geoff?” John asked.

“It’s Greg, first of all,” he corrected. He pointed a finger at Sherlock and raised his sunglasses so he could see better. He squinted as he continued, “And second, you better leave my house if you intend to shag tonight. Bloody James and Sebastian are at it in my bathroom.”

“Don’t worry, Graham, we’re not. Now go.”

“Graham?”

“Greg! You’re welcome for hooking you up! It’s a fucking Christmas miracle that this shit even worked! Who knew?” He patted Sherlock on his shoulder and laughed merrily.

Sherlock smiled and hugged Greg. He was rather confused with the gesture and looked at John for an answer, but he only offered him a smile. “Thank you, Glen. Merry Christmas.”

“Greg!” he and John said at the same time. Sherlock pulled away and walked back to John.

“Anyway, we have to go!” Sherlock said as he laced his fingers with John. He took his gifts on the island and said, “James and Sebastian already took our spot.” He laughed and led him and John out of the flat, grabbing their coats by the door before they left.

“Were you serious?” John asked amusingly as they made their way through the hallway.

“Nope.” John let go of Sherlock’s hands and proceeded to put his arm around him.

He kissed Sherlock’s temple and said, “Well I was serious about you, though.” Sherlock blushed and rested his head on John’s shoulder. He started humming a familiar tune as they exited the building. They waited near the streets to hail a taxi.

John started to sing, “I won’t ask for much this Christmas, I won’t even wish for snow.”

Sherlock punched him on his side and hissed, “No.”

John chuckled and continued, “I just wanna keep on waiting.”

“Underneath the mistletoe,” Sherlock continued, looking up and giving John one more kiss. After all, it was Christmas tradition.

**Author's Note:**

> Of course, why end it with a wonderful ending if you could make it SAPPY ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Kudos and comments are gladly appreciated and MERRY CHRISTMAS!!


End file.
